


Take My Hand and Lead Me Far From Here

by larascasse



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Bond comes back for Q, Fix-It, M/M, Oblivious Q, Spectre - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larascasse/pseuds/larascasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another run of the mill "For the love of all fandom, fix the Spectre ending!" fic.</p>
<p>Aka Bond comes back for Q.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Hand and Lead Me Far From Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dabble in this fandom. I couldn't help myself.

 

The steam from his cup of Earl Grey is dancing in the morning light besides him while he types away at his computer. Q relishes in the quiet morning hours before anyone dares intrude his space. He hasn’t even had a sip yet when he hears the distinct sound of the door opening. _So much for a quiet morning_. He looks up towards the door and smiles slightly at the unexpected visitor.

“Bond?” Bond was supposed to be thousands of miles away from here, off into the sunset with Dr. Swann. “I thought you’d gone.”

Bond walks towards him with his usual nonchalance, as if Q’s den is his. “I had. Escorted Dr. Swann to a safe location. I was leaving again, but I needed one last thing.”

Q’s fingers still on his keyboard. He eyes his tea longingly, but then gets up from his chair and makes his way around his desk. “The car, I presume.” It’s always the car. It’s a wonder he still has a job after the number of times James has destroyed his cars, not to mention the countless weapons and devices Q had designed for him.

“The car I want,” James says, “But there’s something else I need.”

Q stops in his tracks. “A new watch?” he asks. Unless it’s a gun. It’s probably a gun. Or the explosive pen. Q had finally given in after months of not-so-subtle comments from Bond, and had designed and built an explosive pen.

“You.”

“Beg your pardon?” Q asks, frowning.

“I need you, Q.”

Q sighs as he keeps walking towards the car. “I’m sorry Bond, but I’ve already gotten fired once this week. Whatever mission you have in mind this time, sanctioned or not, most likely not,” he trails more to himself. “Must you really ask me?”

When he realizes that James has stopped a few paces behind him, Q turns around for his answer. James’s head drops slightly and his lips purse into a smile.

“Not for a mission, Q.” James steps towards him, so close the tip of their shoes are touching. “Not _only_ for a mission.”

Q pulls a set of keys from his pocket and dangles it in front on James’s face. “Please don’t destroy this one. My help ends here. Good day, 007.” Q walks past Bond slowly back towards his desk.

“Q.”

“007, must I restate my earlier statement, or have you already forgotten it?”

“Q,” James says more severely.

Q pauses, his back to Bond. “Yes?”

“I said I need you.”

“Clearly. What would a double O be without a Quartermaster?” Q says, tossing a smirk over his shoulder.

“Not just for a mission, Q. For everything. You’ve been everything to me. Honestly,” James says with a sheepish look, “I’m quite lost without you.”

Q opens his mouth but falls silent for a few seconds until his brain catches up. “Thank you,” he says, a question more than a statement.

“Q,” James says, now standing in front of him, eyes searching for contact. “Come with me to Caracas.”

Q can think of so many reasons why that is a terrible idea. First, flying. Second, car chases. Third, bullets. He’s quite certain he’s forgotten a few other reasons as well. “If I recall correctly, last time I followed you, I almost died.”

“ _Almost_ ,” James says, “being the key word.”

“I much prefer here, thank you.”

“Think of it as a vacation.”

“Honestly Bond. A vacation?”

“A date then?”

“A… a what?”

“A date, to a pleasantly warm country with beautiful beaches. I have a room that overlooks the ocean just outside of town.”

Q stares into the blue of Bond’s eyes, searching for clues he doesn’t find. “Have you gone mad?”

“No.”

“Poisoned then?”

“Q,” Bond growls.

Q lifts Bond’s chin with his index, and tilts his head to get a better look. “Brain implant?”

“Q!” Bond says sternly. “I am in perfect health. Why is it so unconceivable that I’d ask you on a date?”

Q drops his hand to his side before quickly raising it back up to adjust the plastic frame on his nose. “A date,” Q states, as if saying it out loud would let logic take over.

“A date,” Bond repeats, with a frustratingly amused look on his face.

Has Q ever fantasized about 007? Sure. Of course he has. But Bond is the equivalent of the cars he gets to build. He can admire them, touch them even, but they will never be his. It has always been black and white and Q doesn’t waste his time wishing it otherwise. Except now, all of a sudden, before he’s had his first cup of tea, Bond has painted his whole world gray.

“A date. To Venezuela.” Q says out loud as he walks back towards his desk, trying to ignore the fact that Bond is following him like a puppy expecting a walk. He picks up the phone and dials a familiar number.

“Miss Moneypenny. Yes, hello. Could you please arrange for my cats to be looked after for a week –“

“A month,” Bond interrupts, then looks the other way.

Q sighs. “For a month. Yes, I –“ Q looks at James with exasperation. “I see, yes. Yes, he did. Just now. Finally? Is that so? Thank you Eve. Goodbye.”

Q leans back against his desk and lets a smile finally take over his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. “007,” he says, the name sweet on his tongue now that he can imagine himself whispering it at night into James’s ear or against his lips.

“Q,” James says just as softly and once again invades his personal space, but this time, Q notices. He notices the fraction of hesitation, the tentative reach, the parted lips. It sends a shiver through his body to know that what happens next is fully in his control, that in this very moment, James Bond is at his will.

Q pushes himself away from the desk with his hands, and lands his lips directly on James’s, stilling for a few seconds before he takes James’s bottom lip between his, then his upper lip, alternating until James’s lips part wider, until Q can taste him and tease him. He leaves quick trails with his tongue, eliciting happy groans from James.

Just as James brings his hands to hold Q’s face and deepen the kiss, Q buries a hand into James’s right pocket. James rolls his hips into the touch, but Q pulls his hand back and places his other hand on James’s chest, pushing for some distance between them.

James looks at him puzzled, eyes searching.

Q smiles and tosses the keys in the air before catching them again. “Shall we go? Wouldn’t want to be late for our date.”

James looks unimpressed and puts his hands on Q’s hips, pulling him closer. His mouth follows Q’s jawline slowly up to his ear, leaving kisses along the way. “I have all the time in the world,” he purrs into Q’s ear.

Q wants nothing more than to melt into his touch, but he also knows he’s dealing with a 00 agent, and that this particular 00 is used to getting his way. And though James’s way is most definitely pleasurable, Q is not willing to be just another conquest.

Q lowers a hand to James’s crotch, applying just enough pressure to get his attention and a lovely gasp. “Then you won’t mind waiting until we’ve reached our destination and you’ve had appropriate time to woo me,” Q says with a final stroke over James’s pants.

There’s an audible little moan before James finds his words. “Woo you?”

Q moves away from James and starts packing his computer and a few other items he thinks he might need while away  (because there’s absolutely no way James won’t get into trouble for a whole month).

“Yes, 007, woo me. You didn’t really think I’d fall into bed with you this quickly, did you?”

“No one mentioned a bed,” James says cockily before busying himself with some metal rod with a bunch of buttons that he picked up from Q’s desk.

“Please don’t touch that,” Q says, taking it away from him. “If you behave during the trip, I might have you after you've taken me out for dinner.”

“Have me?” James says, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, before coming around to stand next to Q. “Oh Q, I believe you meant to say I’ll be the one having you.” His breath is warm against Q’s skin and Q is glad the long sleeves of his jumper can hide the goosebumps on his skin. He takes a sip of his now too-cold tea to ground himself and clear his mind, which is harder than it seems with Bond so close to him.

He scans his desk one more time before zipping up his duffle bag, then looks up and directly at Bond. “I meant exactly what I said. Will that be a problem, 007?”

James smirks then licks his lip. “Not at all, Q.” And Q believes him, he can see the lust in James's eyes, the anticipation in his every breath.

“Very well. Then I say we get going,” Q says smugly, placing a chaste kiss on James’s lips before brushing past him towards the car.

“After you.”

Q fails to suppress a grin as James opens the passenger door for him. He's sure there are countless reasons why this trip is a bad idea, but for some reason, Q seems to have forgotten them all, and he's quite alright with that.

.


End file.
